


No Angel

by calvinahobbes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Butch/Femme, Detective Noir, F/F, Femme Fatale, Genre-Typical mentions of alcohol, Lesbian Sex, Private Investigators, mentions of adultery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A private eye, a suspicious husband, a curvy femme fatale, and a different take on a classic tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Angel

The great neon sign across the street was jittering slightly in the dark evening air. Maybe it was the rain creating an optical illusion. Two storeys tall the sign kept drawing my attention back to it as it towered above the dingily lit gas station. The orange circle at the top of the long straight bar was broken across by the single cry, GAS, in screaming red. Something about the curvature of the letters, smaller consonants framing a larger vowel, created a shape that reminded me of a single demonic eye. I shuttered inside my coat and drew my arms across my chest. Another yellow cab slid by, its gleaming dark tires drawing behind it a continuous trail of silver spray. 

I tipped my head down, hoping the brim of my hat would block the eye’s view of my face. But the rain soon dripped down the back of my coat, and anyway, I had to keep an eye on that damned gas station. I hadn’t even been waiting for very long. And my mark would be here any minute. But this case had dropped into my lap at a moment’s notice and I’d rushed out the door to be here in time. 

It had been it’s own kind of good luck. I had only just finished my latest case; a big piece of work, taking me months of tailing obscure grunts and reading through old newspapers at the library. But I finally got my man, my deadly shot. It hadn’t been easy to get close enough to Ray “Sunshine” Gould, one of the most feared crime bosses in this whole festering city. But I had done it, and I had a series of excellent, clear snaps of Sunshine shaking hands with Yogi the Knife a mere hour before the city’s finest had finally caught that bastard red handed. Or red knifed, as the case may be. The pictures themselves might not be enough to condemn Sunshine Gould, but it was certainly enough for the police to bring him in, and no jury in their right mind could ignore the compelling nature of the circumstances.

I had just finished developing the pictures in my private darkroom and stuck them in a fresh manilla folder when a man entered my office. The first thing you noticed about him was undoubtedly his size. He was tall and broad across the shoulders, with a muscular torso that tapered off perfectly into narrow hips and strong thighs. His eyes were blue as the sky on a clear summer day, startling in such a masculine face, and his hair was a deep golden color like flax. It wasn’t my habit to make a note of men’s looks except to mark them for future reference, but even I could see that this one was a specimen.  
“Ms Black,” he said. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I have a time-sensitive case and a wad of cash with your name on it if you’ll take it.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr…?” I said and indicated the chair opposite my desk. 

He sank into it, but his eyes tracked alertly around the dark room. “White. Michael White. I’m afraid it’s a bit of a cliché, but I think my wife is having an affair.” I must have seemed a bit doubtful because he continued hastily: “I know that must not usually be a rush kind of job, but you see, I just overheard her talking on the phone. We’ve been… having problems for a while now. Lately she’s seemed… different. Now she’s heading out in this weather, saying she’s meeting a girlfriend for coffee.” I hadn’t noticed the rain starting, but now I heard it lashing against the window pane behind me. “She scribbled this address before she left.” He handed me a piece of note paper, lightly scratched over in pencil to reveal a gently sloping italic hand, standing out in white contrast against the grey. These days everyone is an amateur detective. 

“You think she’s meeting her lover now?” I brushed my thumb across the smooth lead of the note.

“I do, and I want you to take pictures. Divorces these days can be a mess. Photographic evidence could really give me the upper hand. Speed things along.”

Cheating. Divorces. Spouses and lovers spying on each other. It wasn’t pretty, but it was my bread and butter. If Mr White had already come all the way here, I wouldn’t have long to get to the address or Mrs White and her lover would have been there and left again. 

Naturally I took the case.

Now I was standing in the wet street, staring back at the unseeing, all seeing, neon eye above me and wondering whether I had missed my mark. If Mrs White really did have a lover she was seeing regularly (and why wouldn’t she, if her marriage was already failing?), there would be plenty of chances to catch them on film at some other, less dreary time. I checked my watch. I was just about to let myself leave, go back to the office and take my work on Ray Gould to the police when a cab pulled up by the gas station and a woman got out.

She was a looker. Of course she was. Her hair was tumbling down her back in perfectly coiffed, blonde curls, ending just above a waist emphasised by a tight belt. She was wide across the back, luscious backside flaring into curvy thighs and beautifully rounded calves above dainty ankles in black killer heels. When she turned to look across the street her face proved positively angelic, wide mouth made artificially smaller by expertly applied lipstick, which cried out louder than even the ghastly sign high above her - come kiss me, they seemed to say. She shuddered delicately in her thin cream coloured coat and hiked the strap of her purse up higher.

I spend a lot of time looking, staring, marking, stalking, but this was the first time in a long time I felt like a creep doing it. I knew to never judge a book by its cover, but she seemed like such a sweet (sweet-tasting) slightly insecure woman. I felt myself both genuinely curious to see the kind of man she would be meeting, and already resenting him for being near her. Something in me (something that also prompted me to break for wildlife and not to litter) wanted me to go to her, offer her my arm and see her safely home. 

But I had to stay professional. Taking down crime bosses didn’t pay the bills. Stalking cheating wives did, no matter how dainty and pretty they looked.

In all the time since she’d exited the cab her eyes had never stopped roving across the street. Of course she was anxious to meet her date, if only to get out of the cold and rain. I knew that no one except me had been lurking around so he probably wasn’t here yet. Maybe he’d stood her up. 

Just as I was idly making plans for quickly hailing a cab if he picked her up in a car, Mrs White’s eyes landed square on me, and I froze in shock. I was standing in the shadow of a doorway, coat collar turned up and hat pulled down. I knew how to keep still and stay unobtrusive, and no mark had ever made me before. Had she been anticipating her husband’s plan to have her followed? I kept completely still, trying not to give myself away, and hoped she was just nervous I was a criminal or a creep. But I had no more luck tonight. She started crossing the street towards me. 

I shrugged out of my hunching posture as I watched her approach, hips swinging tantalisingly. I knew absolutely nothing about this lady and so were better off expecting the very worst from her. I rolled my shoulders and stepped out of the doorway.

“I take it you’re the private eye Michael’s hired,” she said in lieu of a greeting. At a distance her rounded figure and stellar looks had made her seem almost larger than life in the dark street, but up close she was short and soft with a voice made of velvet. 

“Ma’am, I assure you I’m not trying to cause any grief,” I began.

“That’s quite alright. Join me for a drink, won’t you?” She indicated a bar a little further down the street.

I had a split second to decide. I could either slink away and give up any hope of collecting any more information about this lady tonight. Or I could follow her out of the rain, warm myself up with a drink, and hope to get a better sense of what this case, which had seemed so simple a mere hour ago, really consisted of. It would also give me a few moments in her company, a whisper told me, but I ignored it. I nodded brusquely, but she put her arm in mine as if she had never imagined I could say no.

The bar was not a nice place, but it was dark and warm and had prompt service. At least Mrs White didn’t insult me by offering to buy the drinks. She merely settled herself gracefully down by a small table near the far wall and asked for a martini. 

The smoky atmosphere of the small bar room was humid and dense. Several patrons seemed to have sought shelter from the rain in here. I shrugged off my own soaked overcoat and jacket in the hope that they would dry out slightly before I would have to head back out. As I returned to my companion with our drinks I caught a familiar expression on her face. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I had attracted the interest of some little hausfrau… But that was a bad train of thought.

“So, Mrs White. What do you hope to accomplish by bringing me here?”

“Oh, please,” she breathed over the rim of her drink. “It’s Vicky. And you are…?”

I had to concentrate not to squirm in discomfort. Or whatever you want to call it. “Name’s Black. Private Investigator. But you knew that.”

“I can’t possibly call you PI Black over drinks, now, can I?”

“Well, then you can call me Mal, I suppose.”

“Mal.” She seemed to taste it and find it more delectable than her drink. “I like it.” Her lips quirked ever so slightly. The color matched her red formfitting dress perfectly. Of course. I took a solid gulp of my own scotch. 

“You haven’t answered my question,” I said.

She smiled more fully. “You really are a detective, aren’t you? Well, I suspected Michael would have me followed and once I was looking you certainly weren’t hard to spot.”

I felt briefly annoyed. “You’re the first person to ever say that. I’ve never been made that easily before, not even as a rookie.”

“Well, most of the people you follow probably never guess they’re being watched.”

“What made you guess?”

She glanced to the side. “Michael is a very thorough kind of person. It was inevitable, I suppose.” She didn’t seem particularly shocked or uncomfortable that her husband had hired a private eye to stalk her. I wondered if she knew he wanted pictures of her and her liaison in flagrante. It was another bad train of thought. For one awful moment I saw them in my mind’s eye; he a dull, dark shadow bent over her, her in bright, golden light with her head thrown back in ecstacy - red lips smudged and parted, heavy, creamy breasts heaving. “But enough about me,” she said, bringing me back to the present where her soft-looking fingers were gently caressing the rim of her glass. “What made you become an investigator?”

I almost snorted at her blatant attempt to distract me. I still hadn’t quite figured out what she hoped to gain by this charade. Throw me off for tonight and I was sure to be back in her shadow again tomorrow. Offer me money and I could take it directly back to her husband and get him to raise his fee. But she hadn’t offered me any money. My eyes tracked the sweep of her fingers. “I guess I’ve always been a sharp observer. I’m good with… details.”

She hummed. “But it can’t pay very well. Unless you’re extraordinarily good.” 

“What makes you think I’m not?” I smirked.

She met my gaze openly, a surprisingly frank smile now curving her lush lips. “Well, give me an example of your prowess, then. Mal.”

My name on her tongue was a shock. Intimate and private and entirely wrong for this setting. I took another sip of my drink. “Well, the best cases are really too sensitive to mention. But suffice it to say that I’ve just put the finishing touches on a case you may very well get to read about in the papers.”

“Is that right?” she breathed. “Does it involve… money?”

“It involves crime on a scale it’s hard for regular folk to fathom. Once this information is in the hands of the authorities, our city may look quite different.”

“That’s thrilling,” she said. Her fingers danced from her glass down to slide across the back of my hand. Her touch sent a shiver up my spine. “And do you find yourself assisting the law often?”

All the sensible parts of me were telling me to tread softly, to back down now before I would do something stupid and unprofessional. “Not very often.” I turned my hand to caress her pulse point, feeling the flutter of it under my index finger. “I go where the business is.” 

I was staring at her, but she was staring at our mating hands, pupils dark and breath shaking ever so slightly. I nearly held my own breath in anticipation, my fingers dragging maddeningly over her silky skin. She coughed slightly and stood, abruptly breaking the contact between us. “This way, please.”

I almost shook my head, not sure I could have heard her right, but she was blushing and not meeting my gaze so I rose, my own pulse hammering now, and waited as she left her coat behind and headed for the ladies’ room.

Her lips were as soft as they looked, waxy at first from the lipstick but slick underneath, and her breath was hot and tasted of her drink. She slid her arms around my neck with an almost inaudible mewl of relief and I pressed myself as close to her as I could get. Her breasts and belly pushed insistently against my own flatter chest, and I slid my hands around her back to rest luxuriously on the small of her back, the flare of her backside like a delicious promise just beneath my fingertips. 

I let myself linger on her lips, tasting them delicately, tracing their shape minutely but it wasn’t long before she pushed her tongue insistently against mine, tugging impatiently at the hair at the back of my neck. I felt a thrill go through me as her one hand unlinked from my neck and began to trace a path down my side, soon exploring impatiently. 

I followed her example, dragging my hand up her back. When it gently brushed the side of her breast she gave a satisfying jump and her own hand stilled momentarily, but I continued my exploration to the side of her neck, locking my hand there to tilt her head back and deepen our kiss. My index finger was brushing her earlobe which soon began to burn against my skin, and when I turned from her mouth to kiss it cool the first touch of my lips against the blushing flesh made her cry out. Apparently I had found a sweet spot because all movement stilled in her as she accepted my attention and I began to burn myself with a longing to be even closer.

“Please, Vicky,” I murmured against her skin. 

“Yes?” she nearly whispered. “I… Oh, ow!” she hissed, and suddenly seemed to slip down out of my grasp. I pulled back in dazed apprehension to find that she had abruptly lost an inch of her height. She gestured in annoyance at her shoes, discarded next to her stockinged feet. I couldn’t help but laugh which caused her to huff in annoyance and then reach to pinch my arm gently. “My calf was cramping!”

“That sounds terrible,” I said, trying to sound conciliatory but failing.

“You try making out with a beanstalk while wearing high heals, see how you like it.”

I drew her back in my arms. “Oh, I couldn’t do what you do for five minutes.”

She sniffed. “It’s hard work.”

“Well, I for one greatly appreciate it.”

She smiled and pulled me down by the tie. “Now, I believe you were about to ask me something.” We kissed again and the fire which had been briefly calmed quickly leapt back into a full roar. Her hand slipped into my belt line and began to free my dress shirt, slowly and insistently. “Ask,” she whispered against my lips.

“I just want to touch you,” I whispered. 

“You are,” she smiled back as her hand finally found its way under my clothes to my skin. Her fingers brushed against the underside of my breast and I swallowed a small gasp. 

“You know what I mean,” I said.

Her thumb was circling, her hand cupping, when suddenly there was the sound of quick heavy footsteps, a man whistling. We stilled in horror. The door to the mens’ room next door opened loudly and then fell shut. It reminded me of where we were. Anyone could walk in at any moment. Vicky seemed to realise it too but it made her cling closer, her thighs pressing hotly against my leg. 

A flurry of desperation overtook us and I pulled at her dress while she rutted against me, and when the clinging fabric was finally pushed up out of my way I wasted no time substituting my thigh for the heel of my thumb. She sagged deliciously against me and we turned to lean against the wall. The satiny fabric of her panties were soaked and cool against my fingers but the flesh beyond was scorching. I rolled my wrist, and she clung to me, her own adventurous hands abandoning their exploration to grasp almost painfully at my ribs. I bent, nearly spraining my neck to drink up each breathy moan that spilled from her lips. And then she tensed, her fingernails digging painfully into my skin, and shook with a stifled little scream of my name that made me feel mad with lust. I let up the pressure and her hand flew to my wrist, holding me in place while she throbbed around me and sighed. 

I kissed her and she petted my hair again, languorous now and once again forgetting that we were in a precarious position. I breathed into her neck, my own desire not yet slaked, when suddenly she shuddered and went still. I righted myself to look at her and she avoided my eyes. 

“Mal,” she said and I felt a mixture of dread, disappointment and annoyance go through me. “Michael, me…” Her guilt couldn’t have waited five more minutes? “Our name is not White - it’s… Gould.” 

I guess it was the fact that I had expected to hear something entirely different from her that caused me to stare at her without comprehension for so many seconds. Ray “Sunshine” Gould. Her name was… Lust still clouded my higher brain functions, but realisation washed over me like a bucket of ice water. I tore myself out of her grasp, heedless of whatever she said next.   
I had been tricked. 

I was running even before I had properly put myself together, my hat and coat in my arms before I had even formed a coherent thought.

.

It was too late, of course. 

The front room of my office had barely even been disturbed. The lock was neatly broken, hanging slightly crooked on the carefully closed door. Inside it hardly seemed like anyone had even been there. Nothing had been touched. 

I circled my desk. The top drawer had been left open, empty maw grinning as if to taunt me. Michael White - Michael Gould - had seen me put the manilla folder there. He hadn’t known it contained the material that would condemn his uncle, but he had every reason to suppose it. No need to make a mess. All he had had to do was present me with a fake case, send his wife to distract me, and lurk around until I left. He would have had the pictures and been long gone by the time I even got out of the cab at the designated spot, but just to be sure Mrs Gould had kept me company to give him plenty of chances.

Mrs Vicky Gould. I knew Sunshine had family, of course, a nephew pretty high up in the ranks, but according to the police he had been out of the country for months. Either he was back or the police didn’t know as much about Sunshine as they thought they did. It was all for nought now, anyway. Months of work was wasted, and not just for me. 

I sank into my chair with a sigh. Underneath the rain soaked clothes and the strain of running, my body was still remembering Vicky and an entirely different kind of straining. I wiped my hand on my pants leg and bent to retrieve the bottle I kept in the bottom drawer.

As I poured myself a drink and took the first sip I pondered where all my luck had gone. Just hours ago everything had seemed just fine. The attention I would get from the lowly element of the city would have hopefully been outweighed by the rep I’d cultivate in the wake of the Sunshine case. I might have moved up to better things, certainly things more interesting that adultery and lurid sex photographs. 

The thought of adultery left a sour taste in my mouth, an uncomfortable churning in my belly. I had known when I followed Vicky that she was married and yet I had only had one thing in my mind. The fact that she had been sent by her husband to keep me entertained didn’t change that. Furthermore I had my doubts that Michael Gould had specified that kind of entertainment when he put her on the job. I took a deep drink. Hopefully she’d keep that part under wraps. I certainly wouldn’t like another visit from him under these new and nerve-racking circumstances.

There was a careful tap at the door and I looked up with a start, fully expecting to see an irate Michael in the doorway, come to complete my night. To my surprise the person in the door was Vicky. 

The light in the hallway behind her glowed golden but left her standing out in almost complete silhouette, her tumbling locks ever so slightly lit up like a blonde halo around her head. She stayed in the doorway, seeming to hesitate, but her face being hid in shadow left me little clue about her emotional state. 

“Mal…” she said.

I sighed and put down my tumbler. “What could you possibly want from me?” I said. “If it’s to gloat I’ll give you five minutes. If for some ungodly reason you’ve come to apologise you can save your breath.”

She took a few steps into the room, and I could see her face more clearly. She looked entirely put together, fresh lipstick and no trace of the messy state she had been in - damn - only a short hour ago. The look on her face was surprisingly contrite for the consort of one of the city’s major crime lords. “But I am sorry, Mal.”

“Oh, please!” I surprised myself with the volume my voice rose to. “Don’t insult me any further. You got what you wanted, and a fun time to boot.”

“It’s true that I set out to deceive you. Ray is my uncle and I couldn’t possibly let you sink him. But I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t intend for it to come out like that.” She looked down awkwardly.

“But what, you felt bad? After you got your rocks off, of course.” I hated how bitter I sounded. I just wanted her to go and leave me to my bottle. I shook my head with a snort. “You got me good. You and your husband.”

“But see that’s why I had to see you.” She gazed at me imploringly. “Whatever else you think of me I can’t have you think I’m a cheater. Michael isn’t my husband, we just pretended that to give you a case to follow. He’s my brother.” I stared at her. “Ray’s our uncle. We owe him so much. You don’t know him. I know he’s a bad man, but he’s always been so good to us.” She looked at me from under her lashes. “I volunteered to meet you. Despite what you seem to think you have quite the reputation. For more than one reason.” I couldn’t believe someone dressing as confidently as she did spent quite as much time blushing as she had tonight. 

I got up slowly, but she didn’t go to meet me. “You mean you…”

“I wanted to talk to you. I’m only sorry it happened to be under these circumstances.”

“I guess I’m sorry too.”

“And I’m sorry I surprised you.” Her lips twitched with some negative emotion. “And I’m especially sorry you left like you did.”

I swallowed. “You are…?”

She finally smiled, that sweet shy smile that was so unexpected on her. “I really think we should finish what we started.”

It was impossible not to laugh. The case was dead, my bonus down the drain, my reputation quite possibly wrecked, but at least I could get to take this beautiful, sexy woman to bed. I closed the remaining gap between us and kissed her.

“So you’ll give me a chance?” she asked earnestly.

“Yeah, why not?” I replied. 

She was still the niece of a crime boss I had just tried to take down, but hey - I never claimed I was an angel.


End file.
